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<title>'Cause He's In Love With The Boy On The Hawkins Family Video Checkout Desk by Glitter_Bug</title>
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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28110690">'Cause He's In Love With The Boy On The Hawkins Family Video Checkout Desk</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Glitter_Bug/pseuds/Glitter_Bug'>Glitter_Bug</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Stranger Things (TV 2016)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Billy Hargrove Needs Love, Billy's recovery, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pining, Post S3, Steve Harrington is a Sweetheart, Swearing, and good at his job, and sneaky smart, definitely, he's been through a lot, just let him be soft, mentions of physical therapy, pretty much, soft Billy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 22:40:29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,301</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28110690</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Glitter_Bug/pseuds/Glitter_Bug</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>How Billy Hargrove became the #1 Customer of Hawkins Family Video<br/><br/><br/><br/>'Billy finds himself in Family Video more and more.<br/>He signs himself up for a membership card and even starts watching the movies he rents so he can have something to discuss with Steve, desperate to be the one making him grin, making him laugh that dumb, dorky, half gaspy chuckle that has his cheeks flushing with a hint of pink.<br/>Billy wants to wrap himself up in Steve's enthusiasm, his ease, and just stay there.<br/>He wants...Steve.'</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>231</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>'Cause He's In Love With The Boy On The Hawkins Family Video Checkout Desk</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Another little fluffy fic that kinda got away from me!<br/>But I am SOFT for soft boys so...</p><p>Oh and, if you get the title reference then I LOVE you! (And I apologise for the earworm)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The first time Billy visits Family Video, it's his first day of freedom. </p><p>He’s out of hospital. Finally discharged.</p><p>And OK, he's pretty sure he must rattle when he walks due to the amount of pills he's on, his torso is still wrapped up and there’s a potentially permanent stiffness in his left leg, but the white coats have declared that he’s fit to eat, walk and piss by himself so he considers that a win. </p><p>And a win, even one as pathetic as that, deserves a celebration.</p><p>He’d thought about heading to the lake. Planned on grabbing the third-cheapest six pack in the store and then christening his newly refurbished lungs with a pack of Marlboro Reds and a couple of the crumpled joints he kept stashed in the glove box. Maybe if he squinted and got enough of a buzz, he could pretend he was looking out at the ocean.</p><p>It had been a fine plan.<br/>Until he'd realised that he no longer had his car.<br/>And that the bus didn't go anywhere near the lake.<br/>And that Dr. Owens had very insistently and repeatedly reminded him that he was still fragile. Still healing. <br/>And that drugs and alcohol and <em> especially </em> cigarettes were not just discouraged, but actually forbidden according to the terms and conditions of his release; the ones neatly typed up in very fine print underneath some scarily official looking letterheads, and handed over with a set of keys to a not-too-shabby house and an equally not-too-shabby cheque.</p><p>So Billy had shelved that idea.</p><p>And it was probably for the best, really. Because his body might be more of a shack than a temple now, but that was still no reason for him to start taking a sledgehammer to the walls.</p><p>Instead, he settled on a movie night. Him and Max in his new place, surrounded by popcorn and candy. A thank you for all the times she'd visited, stopping by the hospital with books and new tapes for his Walkman and then staying to chat, to listen, to hold his hand when things were tough. To look away when he cried.</p><p>It hits him hard when he realises he has no idea which film she’d like.</p><p>No clue whether she'd still be excited by something from his collection of cheesy horrors, the ones with lashing of fake blood and terrible special effects, or whether she'd moved onto those dumb romances with a quirky girl and a sweet nerd and, hopefully, some pretty preppy boy to hold Billy’s attention through the paper thin plot. </p><p>He'll get a selection, he figures, let her choose.  He'll go through the entirety of the video store's stocklist if that's what it takes.  Use it as a way to learn more about her. </p><p>A promise that he’s going to do better. Be better for her, this time around.</p><p>So Family Video it is. </p><p>Billy wants to turn right around as soon as he walks in- movie night be damned- because even though the guy behind the counter is turned away, Billy would know that hair, those shoulders, that ass anywhere. It’s Steve <em> fucking </em> Harrington. And it’s <em> unfair </em> how good he looks even in a badge covered vest and a stripy polo. </p><p>And Billy is not ready for this.<br/>Not ready to have his past shoved in his face.<br/>Not ready for Steve to turn around and look at him with disgust, or pity or, even worse, fear.<br/>Not ready for-</p><p>"Oh!"</p><p>He's definitely not ready for the bright smile, the way Steve's moving out from behind the counter towards Billy, <em> eager,</em> as if he's happy to see Billy.</p><p>"Hey, Billy, hey! It's good to see you."</p><p>The greeting is so bright, so unexpectedly cheerful, that Billy jolts, feeling his heart kick at the warmth behind the words. He quickly reminds himself that Steve doesn't mean it, that it's nothing but his customer service voice, trotted out purely for the surly faced manager currently glaring at him from across the store.<br/>But still,<br/>It feels good.</p><p>“Harrington,” Billy hopes the roughness of his voice disguises the emotion.</p><p>“How’ve you been, man?” Steve cringes almost as soon as he says it, “I mean...obviously you’ve been, y’know…” he flaps a hand, “But Max said things were good. You were doing better? Right? You look, uh, yeah. You look good. Well. You look...you look well,” his voice peters out, and he tries for a small smile instead, which Billy returns.</p><p>It's the most that anyone's said to him in a while. Billy needs a moment to process it, to let his brain wrap around the words before he can answer,</p><p>“I’m...OK.” </p><p>And for the first time in a while, it’s not entirely a lie.<br/><br/>*</p><p>The second time he visits, it's a Tuesday, and Steve doesn't even notice him.<br/>Not at first.<br/>He doesn't even glance up as Billy enters the store, far too engrossed in his conversation with some kid standing on tiptoes at the counter.<br/>So Billy watches and waits.</p><p>Steve's smile is huge as he talks, holding up whichever tape he was about to scan,</p><p>"Great choice, seriously. This is so good. Think I've seen it five times already, maybe more."</p><p>He taps his finger on one of the characters, </p><p>"This guy here? You're gonna love him, trust me. And this girl..." he flips the tape over, pointing to someone on the back, "Dude, just you wait until you see what happens to her!"</p><p>He pulls an imaginary zipper across his lips,</p><p>"Not gonna spoil it, promise."</p><p>The kid laughs and says something that Billy can’t quite catch, but it makes Steve nod eagerly as he hands over the tape,</p><p>"Oh yeah, definitely! Even more than the first one! Lemme know what you think, OK?"</p><p>Billy's gaze follows the kid as he skips away from the counter with the tape pressed against his chest, watching as he skips towards a woman browsing the romance section. He's so excited, bouncing on his tiptoes as his words tumble out, </p><p><em> " </em>Steve says this one's really good too. More monsters this time ‘cause he remembered that was my favourite part."</p><p>The mom looks up at that, shooting an amused look at Steve who replies with an apologetic shrug and a weird finger waggle of a wave. <br/>It's a dumb gesture, utterly dorky, but something about it has butterflies fluttering in Billy's stomach. <br/>He looks away from Steve as the mom and kid pass, holding the door open for them both and then watching for a moment as they get into a red station wagon and drive away.<br/><br/>When he turns back, Steve's moved out from behind the counter, coming towards him with a stack of fresh returns in his hand.</p><p>"Hey, Billy! Good to see you!," Billy glances around. He can’t see any sign of the manager.  There’s no lurking nerd forcing Steve's cheerfulness.</p><p>"You need any help?"</p><p>Steve's still smiling,  and while it’s smaller than the giant grin he had for the kid, it's definitely reaching his eyes and it seems genuine.<br/>Billy smiles back. He can't help it.</p><p>"Nah, I'm...I'm all good."</p><p>Definitely not a lie this time.<br/><br/>*</p><p>Billy finds himself in Family Video more and more.<br/>He signs himself up for a membership card and even starts watching the movies he rents so he can have something to discuss with Steve, desperate to be the one making him grin, making him laugh that dumb, dorky, half gaspy chuckle that has his cheeks flushing with a hint of pink.<br/>Billy wants to wrap himself up in Steve's enthusiasm, his ease, and just stay there. <br/>He wants...Steve.</p><p>Billy learns the best times to come, the times when Steve doesn't have his pretty little co-worker with him.<br/>Because seeing them together eats Billy up inside.<br/>The rapport they have, their fond smiles at each other’s insults, the sarcasm, the conversations peppered with in-jokes and call-backs that hint at time spent together outside of work. Shared experiences. A depth of friendship that surely has to push into something more.<br/>And Billy hates it. Hates how easily she can make him laugh, <em> really </em> laugh. The way that Billy aches to do.<br/>It makes sourness roll in his stomach. Makes his throat close up and his eyes prickle.</p><p>He hates her. Robin. How she’s clever and beautiful and utterly perfect for Steve in every way. </p><p>Luckily, she seems to hate him as well, always giving him a sidelong glance when he walks in and excusing herself to go and do <em> something </em> in the back room, or over the other side of the store.</p><p>Until the ninth time he visits, and Steve’s not there when he should be.</p><p>But Robin is.<br/>Billy turns back around before the door’s even fully open, intent on heading back out. </p><p>"Get back here, Hargrove."</p><p>But it’s too late, he’s been spotted. Robin's beckoning him in with a crooked finger and an intimidating glare, and there’s nothing for it.<br/>He heads in.</p><p>“We need to talk,” she says, folding her arms across her chest and looking entirely terrifying, “About Steve.”</p><p>She leans forward, a few tendrils of hair hanging down her face, and lowers her voice.<br/>“You like him, right?” she asks, cocking her head to one side, glare still in place.” As in... <em> like </em> him?”</p><p>It’s obvious what she means. She knows. Robin knows.<br/>Billy feels the bile rise in his throat and there's a horrible clenching in his stomach. He shoves his hands deep in his pockets to hide the shaking, trying to look cool, look calm, but his thoughts are whirling.</p><p>He can't... she can't...</p><p>Billy's heart bangs against his chest so fast, so frantic that he wouldn't be surprised if it jumped right out and landed on the counter in between them with a splat. <br/>It all must show on his face, because suddenly Robin’s leaning back, eyes going wide. </p><p>“Holy shit, you really like him,” she whispers. </p><p>Billy needs to leave.<br/>He turns around, he's going to head out and never come back. Get out of the town, the whole state, official orders be damned.<br/>But then Robin's reaching out, long, slender fingers curling gently around his wrist and pulling him back.</p><p>“Hey, hey,” and she sounds kinder than he’s ever heard her, “I'm sorry, I don’t mind, I really don't. Billy, hey, listen..."</p><p>He calms, slowly, and Robin lets go of his arm, looking right at him with a serious expression.</p><p>"I mean it, Billy. It's OK. And I know he likes you too. But he’s…” she stops for a moment, a softness crossing her features as she twists the ring around her middle finger, “he’s still figuring it all out. Figuring himself out. He just needs a bit more time.”</p><p>There’s something Billy’s missing, he knows it. But honestly, he thinks his brain stopped after ‘<em>I know he likes you too.’  </em></p><p>"But you...you and him? I thought-?"</p><p>Billy jumps a little when Robin laughs so hard that she snorts, recovering just enough to splutter,<br/>"Oh God you're an idiot, an actual idiot."</p><p>She says it with that same fondness in her eyes, the kind she has when insulting Steve and Billy thinks she might not be that bad, after all. </p><p>"You two are a perfect match, dingus and doofus," Robin sighs, grabbing a tissue to wipe her face and leaning in again, "I like them <em> pretty </em> but <em> he </em> 's not exactly my.. <em> .type </em>."</p><p>She says it slowly, deliberately, heavy emphasis partnered with dramatic nodding and winking.<br/>And, with her help, Billy gets there.</p><p>“You're...? You're into girls?”</p><p>“He's got it! By George, I think he's got it!" She smirks at him, "Maybe not a <em> total </em> idiot. There's hope for you yet. " </p><p>She’s about to say something else when the door opens and Steve's pushing through, two brown paper bags in one hand and a tower of three take away cups precariously balanced in the other. <br/>Billy rushes forward to help him with the load, and Steve smiles, “Hey Billy, I figured you’d be here. You like coffee, right?” </p><p>And Billy doesn’t, not really, but he's pretty sure that the knowledge that Steve thought of him, cared enough to get something for him, will make this coffee the best thing he's ever tasted.</p><p>“Yeah, yeah Steve. That's great, thanks.” <br/><br/>*<br/><br/>The eleventh time he visits, Billy is <em> hurting.<br/></em>He hates physical therapy. Hates the shitty, slow laps of the hospital corridors, the mindless exercises, the stretches that leave him grimacing with pain.<br/>And he hates the fine motor stuff even more. It hurts like hell, but it’s more than that. It’s the humiliation. The way he feels just like a kindergartner learning how to hold a spoon, how to write his name, how to zip up his jacket.<br/>And yeah, he high fived a goddamn tentacle monster for fucks’ sake, he should’ve guessed it might have a few repercussions. <br/>But he hadn't realised how <em> hard </em> it was all going to be, afterwards. </p><p><br/>His stomach churns with embarrassment when it takes him three attempts to grab the door handle, and then almost a whole minute to actually wrench the door open.<br/>He wants the ground to swallow him up when he can’t actually unclench his fist to let go, and he has to stand awkwardly on the threshold, slowly lifting his fingers off, one by one.<br/>He almost cries when he looks up to see that Steve has been watching him the whole damn time. </p><p>"Billy? You OK? Long day?"</p><p>And there's something about the softness of Steve's voice, something in the way he actually sounds like he wants to know, like he cares.</p><p>"Longest one for a while actually, Harrington." </p><p>Billy manages to get to the counter before he slumps. He starts to run a hand through his hair, but his fingers are still throbbing and even that slight movement becomes too much. He settles for chewing the skin around his thumbnail, gnawing at a jagged hangnail until it bleeds.</p><p>"Yeah?" Steve rests his hand on a red stapler, pressing down hard to fasten together a thick stack of old order forms. Billy's thumb stills in his mouth when he notices how the motion makes the muscles in Steve's arms bulge slightly. He tries to look away.</p><p>He fails. </p><p>Steve reaches for another stack of papers, glancing up from underneath his hair, "That bad?"</p><p>And Billy feels it bubbling up in him, like he's just been waiting for someone to ask.<br/>And even if Steve didn't technically ask, once Billy starts telling him, he can't stop. <br/>So he tells Steve about all the dumb physical therapy shit the nurses made him do. All the stupid little activities that were meant to help him get the strength and movement back into his hands.<br/><br/>"They give me all this shitty homework and keep telling me to practise, that it'll get easier, but do you know how fucking depressing it is sitting all alone dropping a load of buttons into a jar?" </p><p>Steve hums sympathetically as he staples together a few more order forms, and Billy figures he’s not actually listening. But it’s still kind of therapeutic, having a sounding board, someone who lets him rant and doesn’t chime in with irritating platitudes about how he was <em> so brave </em> and that <em> it all takes time </em>.</p><p>So Billy keeps talking,  </p><p>"And it's so dull because it's stuff they get kids to do. Toddlers. And it should be easy but it's not, it's <em>hard</em>. But I still do it, OK? I spend the longest, shittiest hour making some pointless paperclip chain or making shitty shapes out of clay, and then later on I can't...I can't-"</p><p>Billy lets out a haggard breath, dropping his head into his hands, forehead resting on the polished wood of the counter.<br/>He doesn't even notice that the sound of stapling has stopped until there's a hand on his shoulder. <br/>Warm and solid.<br/>Comforting.<br/>Billy swallows past the lump in his throat and manages to keep going,</p><p>"I can't have dinner because I can't open a dumb can of soup or even hold a damn spoon because...because my hands are cramping and I'm so...I'm hungry but it... I... Everything hurts too much. It really, really <em>hurts."</em></p><p>His throat is aching and his voice breaks on the last word and Billy thinks it might be the longest he's actually spoken in months, but it feels good to get it off his chest.</p><p><br/>When he finally looks up, Steve is staring back at him with an expression of genuine concern that Billy appreciates, even if he doesn't feel deserving of it. He wipes his eyes roughly on his sleeve and clears his throat,</p><p>"Shit, sorry. Didn't mean to. That was, that's a load to dump on you. It kinda just...spilled out."</p><p>Steve shakes his head, "Spill your load on me whenever, Bill.”</p><p>He flushes bright red a millisecond later, and Billy can tell the instant that Steve's brain catches up with his mouth as he cringes, pulling his hand back from Billy's shoulder to press it against his mouth.</p><p>"Shit, I mean…shit. That's not, not what I...Oh <em>shit!</em>"</p><p>And he's so adorably red, so clearly embarrassed that Billy can't help but grin.</p><p>And there’s another thing bubbling up in him. But it’s better this time. It’s a laugh, a proper laugh, the kind that brings tears to his eyes and dies out only to return a few seconds later. It’s yet another thing he can't stop once he starts, and this time Steve’s joining in too, with that perfect dorky, half gasping laugh that Billy adores.</p><p>It's beautiful.<br/>He's beautiful.</p><p>When they finally both calm down, when they’ve exhaled deeply and wiped their eyes and can finally, finally look at each other without cracking up again, Steve ducks under the counter and returns brandishing a take-out menu.</p><p>“You, uh, fancy getting a pizza?” he asks, opening the leaflet and sliding it over to Billy, “I’m kinda craving one and if you’re still hungry we could split a large?” </p><p>Billy doesn’t even need to look down at the menu to answer.</p><p>"Sounds fucking fantastic, Steve."</p><p>*<br/><br/>Billy stops counting his visits. <br/>He's aware that it's gotta be in the high twenties maybe even the thirties by now, but Steve never seems to mind.<br/>Even when he's had a shitty day, when Keith's been an absolute asshole or he's had to deal with some entitled customer, Steve never takes it out on Billy. He’s <em> always </em> happy to see him, always cheery, always smiling.</p><p>"Here," Steve shoves a stack of tapes into Billy's hands along with a roll of stickers. It's not unexpected.  Over the last few weeks, Steve had taken to making him work, always finding some chore to give him whenever the store was quiet.</p><p>And, not that he’d ever say it, but Billy’s grateful for the distraction. For the way it gets him out of his mind and gives him something to do, something else to look at while he talks to Steve. Stops him from <em>staring.</em> From forcing himself not to stare.</p><p>"Yours are all, whassit, uh, the weird subtitled ones... international cinema," Steve gestures towards one of the least popular areas of the store, "so don't worry too much about messing it up. Literally no one but Robin will mind. Or notice." </p><p>He stands next to Billy, close enough that their arms brush occasionally when Steve reaches over to grab at another tape, and Billy can see how he’s already making a real mess of his stack, slapping the stickers down without any real care, more focused on his rant about some creepy guy who comes in and rents <em> Splash </em> every week. </p><p>“He’s not even subtle,” Steve's nose is crinkled in disgust as he places a sticker upside down on the side of a case, “Shuffling around all hunched over and breathing like he’s about to...y’know…” The gesture that he makes has Billy huffing out a laugh, and Steve’s eyes flick over to him, smile growing on his face as he continues, </p><p>“And that’s just when he looks at the cover. Probably wore out the pause button on his machine, right? And anyway, you’d think he would just go and buy a copy, but noooo...”</p><p>Billy tunes him out as he scratches at one of the stickers. It’s a fiddly thing and he has to focus more than he’d ever admit to get his fingers to cooperate, but it starts to peel eventually and he gets a buzz of satisfaction when he manages to line it up neatly with the corner of the case. He moves on to the next one and glances over at Steve’s stack, already halfway done with the stickers placed haphazardly, not a single one in its proper place and most of them already peeling at the corners. </p><p>He’s still talking.</p><p>“...noticed that he only comes in when I’m here alone after Robin chewed him out that one time. So maybe I should try yelling at him?” he pauses, but he’s not really waiting for Billy to respond, “Nah, it’d be my luck that he gets off on that too. Least he might tip me then, though. Man, Scoops sucked but I miss the tips...”</p><p>Billy snorts again and gets another sticker perfectly in place. He wonders if Keith knows that Steve's such a terrible employee, pawning his duties off like this. Last week it was sorting out all the bags of change, stacking the coins into neat little towers for Steve to put in the safe; a few days ago it was rolling up a seemingly never ending stack of old posters so they could be shoved into cardboard tubes, yesterday it was folding batches of order forms so that they’d fit in the tiniest envelopes.</p><p><em>All the annoying, fiddly jobs </em> , Billy thinks as he peels the last sticker off the roll, pressing it down onto the spine of <em> Calamari Union </em>. <br/>And then it hits him.</p><p><br/>Billy stares down at his hands, wiggling his fingers and feeling the growing ache in them, a far cry from the stabbing pains he’d been dealing with only weeks ago. When he’d first moaned to Steve about the pain and the practise. About the boring activities. About having to do them all alone.</p><p>He squeezes his right hand into a tight fist and then stretches his fingers out, spreading them wide before clenching them tightly again.<br/>Repeats it.<br/>The movements come more easily and more smoothly than they have in months, so he does the same with his left, cycles through the same motions but it’s not quite as easy, not quite as smooth. There’s a sudden twinge, a flicker of pain, and he winces. It’s not bad, barely a little sting compared to what he’d been used to, but Steve’s already moving closer, his fingertips reaching out to rest gently on the knuckles of Billy’s left hand, and Billy feels a similar flicker, pleasure this time, a warm rush spreading from that smallest point of contact.</p><p>“Hey,” Steve asks,  “You ok? Is it hurting?”</p><p>“Nah,” Billy gives a small shake of his head, “I just didn’t really use this one as much. Guess it’s not quite as strong.”</p><p>“What helps?” Steve asks, “We’ve got ice in the back, if you need cold. Or do you need heat? Is it a sprain? A strain? I never know what-”</p><p>“Steve,” Billy stops him before Steve can move away, before he can leave to try and get whatever it is he thinks that Billy needs.</p><p>Because what Billy needs is already right there, right in front of him. Steve. His help. His care. His damn cleverness in getting Billy to help himself.</p><p>But more importantly, Steve's fingers, resting lightly against his skin. It's so little, the barest of touches, but it's doing so much.</p><p> “Just...stay. Please.”</p><p>And Steve seems to get it, seems to understand, because he presses his fingers more firmly against Billy’s hand, sliding underneath and lifting it so carefully from the counter, entwining their fingers and squeezing lightly.</p><p>Billy looks down at their joined hands, holding his breath as Steve pulls him closer.</p><p>"Billy? This OK?" he asks, and Billy's not exactly sure what he's offering but he nods eagerly, knowing it can only be something good as he gazes into those brown eyes so soft and full of love. His heart is hammering, fit to burst, as Steve rests his other hand against Billy's cheek and presses his lips against Billy's in the softest of kisses.</p><p>It’s gentle. Practically chaste. And Steve's touch is so light that Billy could easily step away if he wanted to.<br/>Instead, he kisses back. Not quite as gentle. Definitely not chaste. <br/>And it's so much more than OK. So much more than good. </p><p>Because Billy's thought about this scenario before. Long lonely nights of him wondering and imagining and <em> enjoying </em>exactly this kind of thing, the first scene of many in an exquisite fantasy which leaves him with a sticky hand and a pang of despair when his head stops spinning and he remembers that he's alone. <br/>But this isn't a fantasy. This isn't quite like he imagined. This has the faint tang of Steve's sweat under the spice of his cologne, the slight roughness of his lips where they're chapped from the wind, the tinny Family Video jingles playing on the store radio in the background.<br/>And this has Steve smiling into the kiss before he licks his way into Billy's mouth. This has Steve's hand tangling possessively into Billy's hair and then stroking the curls with a tender touch.</p><p>This is more than Billy ever dared think he could get.</p><p>This is real. This is better.</p><p>This is perfect.</p>
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